Chapter Sixty-Five: Standstill

It had been two weeks. Two exhausting weeks of Akira seeking out trouble in every mundane task both at home and at school. Two exhausting weeks of acting out in class. Two weeks of purposefully starting arguments with other students and talking back to teachers. She arrived late, turned in homework that was poorly completed, and even failed tests, which was arguably quite a difficult feat for a seven-year-old.

At first, her teachers cut her some slack. She had never been a perfect student, but she had never acted out in these ways. However, as the second week dragged on, they began to treat her no differently than the other misbehaved students. All she wanted was to be pulled aside and to be asked if there was something going on at home. She wanted someone, anyone, to ask if she was alright.

Instead, she was simply disciplined. Stern voices were aimed her way. She was held back at recess to complete assignments she should have done the night before.

It wasn't long before the punishments became more serious. Seven-year-olds didn't get detention, but they did get calls home to their parents. Her parents had heard all about her behavior in school, which in turn only made her home life more difficult than it already was. Yet they had not laid a finger on her since the incident with Eiji and Ash. They barely paid her any mind at all. Which caused her to only throw more tantrums and break more rules. She fought to find an excuse to act out at every turn, yet nothing seemed bad enough to evoke a physical reaction. She was running out of ideas.

And she wasn't the only one. Ash was running out of ideas too. After exhausting his own brain and Eiji's brain, he turned to hiring a lawyer. It had been Eiji's idea. He had said there was nothing wrong with using the resources they could afford. There was no shame in it. But the lawyer told them nothing new. Foreigners, single men and women, and same-sex couples were all barred from adopting children in Japan. The law didn't change in the circumstance of abuse and neglect. And the law didn't change just because you wanted something desperately.

Akira wasn't the only one losing sleep and cursing the ways of the world.

"Something's changed in you," Iku-san said definitively. "Or in your life, but either way something is different."

Ash sat silently in the plush chair that faced her desk. In his fingers, he twirled one of the business cards he had plucked from the small gold and acrylic card holder that sat upon her desk. His finger traced the sharp corner of the card and then followed the edge of the card until he reached the next corner. His fingers repeated the motion in a mindless loop as his brain pondered how to respond to her statement.

"If you don't tell me, your progress will stagnate, or worse, regress." She was quiet for a moment. "And I know neither of us wants that."

Ash closed his eyes for a brief moment to keep them from rolling around in his skull.

"Ash," she leaned forward on her desk, eyes stooping low in an attempt to meet his. "Please, tell me."

His eyes snapped up from the business card and met hers. "Tell you what?" He asked sharply.

"Tell me what it is that's bothering you."

"Who says there's anything bothering me."

His eyes returned to the card like a child to the comfort of its safety blanket. It took all Iku-san had not to reach across the desk and pluck it from his fingers. Instead, she forced herself to bite back an exasperated sigh and continue talking.

"These past few sessions something's been off." She paused. "But today, whatever it is has become angrier."

His face twitched in mocking humor and she looked at him puzzledly, trying, for a moment, to decipher it. She continued on, "And I don't want that for you. Today you are more closely resembling the Ash that first came here— hurt and gruff and traumatized and a little hostile at times— rather than the one I've come to know. The Ash that is kind and gentled and healing. You've made so much progress, you should be proud. I don't want you to lose that."

His eyes left the card. "I thought healing wasn't linear," he stated mockingly.

A younger, less experienced Iku-san may have been offended, but she saw his words for exactly what they were; a defense meant to keep her away from the root of his current inner qualm. She pulled her forearms off the desk and leaned against the back of her office chair. "You're right, it's not. But if you do not talk about the regressions, how are you supposed to move forward again?"

With a gentle flick of his wrist, Ash suddenly tossed the business card. It caught the air and twirled in the air like a helicopter's rotor before landing without a sound on Iku-san's desk. In the same motion, Ash stood. Iku-san steadied herself with a deep breath, knowing full well Ash was finally about to say something.

"I can't really tell you," he said. He ran an anxious hand through his hair and took up his regular post at the window.

"And why is that, Ash?" She asked calmly. "Is this another situation involving Eiji's family? One that you feel you don't have the right to disclo—"

"No, no," he shook his head.

"Then, why?" She asked quietly.

"It's… a— legal— reason." Iku-san tensed in her seat and Ash turned his head to face her. "And before you ask— or assume— no I'm not going to kill anyone, those days are behind me. Far behind me." She opened her mouth, but Ash beat her to her next question. "And no I'm not going to kill, or harm, myself either."

He thought of Akira's parents. He didn't know for certain, but something like that, may very well be something a therapist would be obligated to report to the authorities, which could have been fine in other circumstances, but the last thing Ash wanted was for Akira to end up in the custody of the state before he figured out how to help her. He grimaced at the thought. It did not go unnoticed.

"I'm not endangering anyone, I swear… in fact it's quite the opposite."

Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded in vague understanding. Of course, she wanted to think the best of Ash always, though, with his past, violence was never entirely out of the realm of possibility. "Does it involve that giant friend of yours?"

Ash huffed. "Blanca and I worked it out." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "He was at my wedding, remember?"

She nodded. "Yes, he was."

Ash raised an eyebrow.

"But he doesn't seem the most trustworthy. Might he turn on you again?"

Ash's brows sunk and creased close together. "Only if he was hired to," he answered grimly. His gaze returned to the courtyard through the window. He heard Iku-san's gasp of surprise at his words.

"But this isn't about him," Ash added. "It's not." He sighed. "But I still can't tell you. To protect someone. You'll just have to let it be."

"I see, Ash. Will you tell me when you can?"

He nodded slowly, "When I can."

"In the meantime, won't you tell me how you're feeling?"

He sank to the floor in front of the large window. "Lost." His eyes traced the glass, looking at it, with all of its smudges and dust, rather than at the world beyond it. Many of those smudges were thanks to his frustrated hands. Or maybe the hands of others who stood where he often stood because it was easier than sitting in her damned plush chair. He wondered how often she cleaned it. Were these just a week's worth of smudges? Months?

"Lost how?" She asked, bringing his mind back to the present.

For what felt like a long time, Ash didn't answer. He thought a moment more about the window. His eyes danced around the room for window cleaner, but, as always, it was free of any unnecessary clutter.

"Lost like… dissociative?" She prompted again. She typically didn't do that. She liked to give plenty of time to let him think, to make him speak. But it was obvious his brain needed a little assistance refocusing today. "Ash? Have you started feeling dissociative again?"

"Nnnn—no." He hadn't felt that way in some time, though it did occasionally sneak up on him when he least expected it. "No, more like…" He closed his eyes and leaned back until his back hit the floor. "Lost like I'm a boy again. A boy with absolutely no control and no way forward. And no idea what I'm doing in this strange land with laws I don't know. Like I need to do something, anything, but I'm not sure what. Because the wrong move could be disastrous and even the right one could have a result I didn't plan for."

"You feel out of control and this reminds you of your time with Dino."

"Yes… and no," he told the ceiling behind the darkness of his eyelids. "It reminds me, too, of my home in Cape Cod. Of my father and Coach. I didn't know what to do and I acted on what I thought was best. But it was wrong, so wrong. I ran away and it lead me to Dino." His eyes shot open and he sat, suddenly simultaneously too hot and too cold. His arms snaked around his waist and clutched at his skin through his t-shirt. "It lead me to ten years of disaster! Ten years of— I can't—" he swallowed against a dry throat. He stood and, like a switch, his attitude changed. "I won't fuck up this time," he said with reckless determination in his eyes. "I'm going to take my time, without taking too much time, and this time, I will choose right, and I will save her. She will not end up like me."

Unprecedented, Iku-san stood, with all the grace of a newborn foal. "You worry me, Ash."

He looked at her, and she saw something in his eyes she'd never seen before, something fierce and absolutely dangerous. Some indescribable essence that was a remnant of 'Boss Ash,' or so Eiji called it.

"Then you shouldn't have asked me to tell you," he snapped. He watched as she tried to fight the fear that was invading her face. He forced his own face to soften and relax. "But you don't need to worry." He always was a good actor and it showed in the way she instantly calmed, even if it was just slightly, at his change in tone. "I'm sorry, I can only not tell you now because I don't want any further unnecessary complications. I have my reasons, and they are good ones, at least I think they are."

"Please don't do anything stupid, Ash. Leave America behind you."

"This isn't about America."

"It sounds like it is," she tried her best to speak in a steady voice and Ash suddenly felt immeasurably guilty. "Emotionally, if nothing else."

Ash considered it. "That's fair. But this is different." Ash walked carefully back to what was intended to be the client's seat. He sat and motioned for her to do the same. "Eiji knows."

The words settled her soul as he knew they would. She sat.

If Eiji was involved, she knew it couldn't be too dangerous… or reckless. In America, that may not have been true. In Japan? Eiji was devoted to protecting the security they had.

"Sorry. You were right, I'm very much my old self today." He twisted in his seat to glance at the clock above the door. "Shit. We're twenty minutes over."

She nodded, still somewhat dazed. "Who is this girl you need to save? And what if you fail?"

His brows creased and his eyes became steely but his voice remained gentle, "I won't fail. It's not an option."

Tears glazed her eyes for the first time Ash could remember. "Eiji knows," he said a second time in case she'd forgotten. "And he's helping me figure it all out."

She wiped the tears before they could fall. "I do not know what you mean by 'save,' and I know better than to ask, but, Ash, don't put yourself in harm's way to save someone else. Whatever it is, you can turn to the police. You can seek out help. You don't need to do everything alone."

Instead of telling her he'd be fine, as was his instinct, he decided to choose words to help calm her. "I will keep that in mind." He hoped those words were reassuring enough, they were all he could manage.

And then he stood, turned, and left.

"Ash?" she spoke just loudly enough for him to hear as he walked quickly down the hall. She sat there, still stunned, in her office chair. When he didn't double back, a few tears spilled from her eyes.

He returned a few minutes later dunking a tea bag in a mug of hot water as he walked through the door. "I told your secretary you weren't feeling well. She cancelled your next few appointments." The mug made a small clunk as it made contact with the desk. "I'm sorry I'm an asshole." He perched himself in the client's chair. He fiddled with his gold wedding band. "Old habits die hard and all that shit," he offered with a half-hearted smile. "Can I make it up to you somehow?"

As much as he was 'feeling like him old self,' the potential double meaning of those words didn't even enter his subconscious.

"You could promise me that anyone— on any side of whatever it is you're talking about— is not in any imminent danger."

"Iku, if I couldn't promise you that I wouldn't be sittin' here right now." He stared into her eyes. "I only take my time when there is time to be taken. And I believe, absolutely, that there is time. That, I can promise you. Because Eiji is right, it will all work out. And I'm gonna make damn sure.